


The Battle of the Five Veggies

by octopus_fool



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Food Fight, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-03-09
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: Thranduil always knew dwarves were disgusting, but during a confrontation with them, he finds his worst nightmare flying towards him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This one was inspired by a discussion in the comments of my Thorin/Dwalin drama [Until the Sun stops turning](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4234839/chapters/9579441), though this obviously only has a similar setting and one little prop in common. :)

Thwup!

“What is it?” Thranduil asked, frantically trying to get the sticky substance out of his hair and eyes. “Is it blood? Or worse, dwarf excrements? A Elbereth Gilthoniel, I am going to die! I’m too beautiful to die!”

“No, it is jam. Strawberry, I think,” Galion said, looking up at the staring dwarves on the battlement.

“I hate strawberries! Get it out, get it out!” Thranduil cried, wiping at the mess and only making things worse. 

“Ada, hold still!” Legolas said, trying to calm his father. “We’ll get water and your hair will be restored to its usual beauty in no time at all. I’m sure it was an honest mistake and they…”

Thwup! Another gloop of jam struck Thranduil, sliming down his forehead. As the elves stood rooted in their places, the dwarves began cheering.

To their great surprise, Thranduil was the first to recover. He snatched Legolas’ bow and the stick of celery Galion was chewing on, fitted the celery into the bow, took aim and shot. The dwarves fell silent when the celery hit Thorin’s crown, giving it a decidedly unmajestic tilt and bouncing off Thorin’s nose as it fell to the ground. The dwarves’ scribe jumped back with a sound of disgust. The bald and the blond dwarf exchanged glances, then grabbed their spoons, filled them with jam and flicked them towards the elves. 

One struck Legolas’ hair, the other hit Galion right in the eye. Before the elves had any time to recover, the other dwarves followed suit, flinging missiles of jam at the ducking elves. Several gloops of jam found their way into Thranduil’s hair. The elf king’s disgust turned into anger. 

“My hair will be avenged! Prepare the catapults! Get out the veggies!”

The elves obeyed, pulling the carts they had brought along to sustain their army and Bard’s people closer. Heads of lettuce, cabbage and parsnips were heaped onto catapults, celery and rhubarb were fitted into bows, carrots and cobs of corn were loaded into crossbows. Thranduil raised his arm, his soldiers drew their weapons and released their vitamin-rich missiles when Thranduil gave the signal. There were thumps and splatters to be heard as the vegetables found their targets. Thranduil could hear the unmistakable sound of retching, mixed with screams and curses from the tougher dwarves. 

“Reload the weapons, but don’t fire yet,” Thranduil ordered. “Perhaps they will surrender now.”

That was when the battle battle cry arose. “Khazâd ai-mênu! Prepare the mushrooms!”

Entire jars of jam were flung from the battlements, along with pots of soup made from the revolting fungi the dwarves called ‘mushrooms’. One bowl of soup flew straight at Thranduil, splattering his entire head with stinking soup. 

 

Thranduil woke with a start, sweat running down his face. He clutched at his hair to see if it had been sullied, but fortunately, it was as perfect as ever, only slightly tussled.

“My lord, breakfast is ready,” Galion announced. 

“What is that stench?” Thranduil asked, realizing the smell had followed him into waking.

“The Lakemen are frying those mushrooms for breakfast,” Galion replied, managing to wrinkle his nose only slightly. “If you breathe through your mouth, it isn’t too awful. Either way, if you want to meet with Bard in time to accompany him to parley with the dwarves, you need to get up now.”

Thranduil jumped up his feet. “No! We leave at once!”

“But my Lord, Bard...”

“We will send him and his people supplies, as much as they need. If they want gold from the dwarves, they will have to take care of it themselves. We are leaving as soon as possible!”

“Because of a few mushrooms?”

“No, no, it’s worse than that!”

“Did your foresight show you something?”

“I don’t know. It might have been. But it doesn’t matter, we are leaving! Get the order out now!”

 

“What are the elves doing?” Kíli asked. 

“To me, it looks like they are retreating, if that chaos can be called a retreat,” Dwalin said.

“Oh. That’s too bad,” Kíli said, clearly disappointed.

“Are you still mooning after that she-elf?” Thorin asked sharply.

“No! It’s just that... I...” The remaining sentence was incoherent mumbling.

“What was that? You need to speak up if we are to understand you,” Thorin said.

Dwalin and Fíli exchanged glances.

“I might have told Fíli and Kíli I would drop a jar of strawberry jam on that Elf-king’s pretty hair if he shows up here again,” Dwalin said. “I think Kíli was quite looking forward to it.”

Kíli nodded sheepishly.

“That would be a waste of perfectly good food!” Thorin admonished. “I hope you weren’t seriously considering doing that.”

He looked after the elves’ hasty retreat and began chortling softly.

“Too bad he is leaving already. That would have been quite a sight....”


End file.
